Assault With a Deadly Weapon || N.H / 1D

1.

Song recommendation for this chapter: Purple by Deal Casino

-

"Never shoot the hostage" They say.

But it's not a rule.

There's no "Beginner's guide to triple homicide."

Whoever they were, obviously intended on instilling a false sense of hope within the loved ones of the victims.

I'm smarter than that.

-

"The water came out brown," I explained to the plumber standing in my bathroom. "I think the pipes might be rusted."

"That's what he said." The old man snickered.

"Come on man." I muttered. Why was every plumber that I called a complete pervert? I've called four already and each of them have made a gross remark!

"You're right they're rusted." He looked at my shower head.

"Well can you fix them? I haven't been able to shower in three days and today is my first day at my new job and I-"

"I can fix them," He interrupted me, making my blood boil.

"Thank god." I sighed in relief.

"But it'll take at least a week."

"What?!"

"Do you want it fixed or not?" The man looked at me with his bloodshot eyes. "I've got other appointments today."

"Fine." I gave in.

"Right, so I'll come back tomorrow and I'll get started then." He nodded and walked out of my bathroom leaving me dumbfounded.

"I won't be home." I followed him out and to my front door.

"That's fine, I'll just check in with the landlord before I come in." He slung his duffle bag of tools over his shoulder. 

I hesitated for a moment.

"Alright, but I'm with the NYPD, so don't try anything." I gave him a warning look.

"I would never." He shook his head excessively. "I will get this done for you Miss..."

"Carter."

"Like Beyonce?"

"Not related in any way but yes, same last name." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Good to know." The plumber opened the door and slipped out.

I rubbed my forehead in exasperation. Why was everything in New York so sketchy?

I walked back to my bathroom, and looked out the window at the beautiful Manhattan landscape. Except the view looked strangely like a red brick wall that was pressed close to the window. I shifted my gaze to the mirror in front of me. My light brown hair looked like it had been dipped in oil. I desperately needed that shower, but apparently it wasn't happening today. I tied my hair back into a tight low bun, and threw on a bit of makeup. I didn't want to put on too much, just enough to look professional.

After putting on a pair of navy blue dress pants and a tight black long sleeved shirt, I was ready to hit the road. I knew that traffic in New York was usually bad, so I took the subway, it would be much more efficient, and it would be cool to experience a real New York subway.

It was not pleasant.

Apparently, being a young, able bodied girl standing alone on a subway was an invitation for men to make disgusting remarks at me. I wished so badly that I'd had my badge on me so that I could've asserted my dominance. I'd spend years of my life imagining what I would do with my first police badge. Where would I keep it? What could I use it for? Who would I show it to first? That last one wasn't valid anymore since I was alone now.